


Sleepless in Wherever the Hell We Are

by dracusfyre



Series: Winteriron Week [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: “Shove over, T-1000, we’re bunking together.”Bucky scowled fiercely; the last thing his sanity needed was to sleep in the same bed as Tony Stark. “What about the couch?”A last minute mission delay on account of weather leaves the Avengers stranded in a cabin where there's not enough beds to go around. For the Winteriron Week Prompt: Bed Sharing.





	Sleepless in Wherever the Hell We Are

“Shove over, T-1000, we’re bunking together.”

Bucky rolled over to see Tony standing next to the bed, hugging a pillow from the closet and looking exhausted. “Why?”

“Because all of the other beds are taken. I was gonna bunk with Steve, but because Sharon’s here and they are back together again I got ousted. Natasha and Maria claimed the other bedroom, and Sam and Clint are on the air mattress.”

Bucky scowled fiercely; the last thing his sanity needed was to sleep in the same bed as Tony Stark. “What about the couch?”

“First of all, I am on the shady side of forty, if I sleep on a couch there’s no way I would be able to even move tomorrow without throwing my back out. Second, Rhodey has the couch because he can’t get in and out of a bed very easily unless he sleeps in his braces.” Dammit, those were both good reasons. As Bucky’s scowl deepened Tony sighed, clearly too tired to argue. “I don’t like it either, sugar britches, but this cabin wasn’t made to house all of the Avengers at once. Now scoot.”

When Bucky couldn’t think of any other protests, he reluctantly moved over, making room for Tony in the queen-sized bed. “You better not snore,” was all he could think of to say, trying to make it sound like having Tony in his bed was the last thing he wanted rather than the thing he wanted most.

“Yeah, well, just make sure you stay on your side,” Tony snarked, pulling the covers up over his ears until only his hair and his eyes were visible. Bucky rolled over to face the wall in self-defense, resigning himself to a sleeplessly night since every cell in his body was suddenly acutely aware of Tony’s proximity, quivering with an excitement that no amount of thoughts about baseball or counting sheep was going to fix. “And don’t hog the blankets.”

Bucky only grunted in response, trying not to move the bed too much as he got comfortable, a dodgy process at best with his metal arm. Eventually everyone in the room grew still and quiet, with only the occasional susurration of skin moving against sheets breaking the hush. A steady, soothing rain drummed on the roof of the cabin; outside, it was an aggravating nuisance that had forced them to postpone their mission, necessitating the team’s stay in this cramped cabin, but now that Bucky was clean and warm and dry, the noise was cozy and relaxing, making him want to do nothing but curl up next to someone and doze. The problem was, there hadn’t been anyone for years, and the only candidate Bucky really wanted as a cuddle partner anyway was the prickly human burrito currently lying next to him.

He sighed as he heard Tony’s breathing and heartbeat, barely audible over the rain, become slow and rhythmic, his body going limp with sleep in a way that was impossible to fake. It was nice, on some level, to know that Tony trusted him enough to sleep next to him; Bucky could still remember the days when Tony’s eyes would follow him like a hawk, suspicious and resentful, every time they were in the same room together. Nowadays he could get smiles, the dubious blessing of an endless supply of nicknames, and, on rare occasions, Tony would join him on the couch as he binge-watched classic movies. _At this rate,_ Bucky thought morosely, _Tony might agree to a coffee date in oh, ten to twenty years._ He sighed again, trying to get his heart to stop pounding, but his hands kept twitching with the thought that Tony was right here, within touching distance, wearing only an undershirt and boxers.

Bucky closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on something else. The botched mission, the rain, how he was going to get Sam back for putting mayonnaise in his shampoo bottle, but all he could think about was Tony. Thinking about how he wanted to roll over and bury his nose in that messy hair. Thinking about what Tony’s skin would feel like under his palms if he slid his hands under that thin A-shirt to feel the ladder of Tony’s ribs or inside his boxers to stroke down the smooth line of his thigh. His cock twitched at the thought of curling around Tony, pressing his hand in the center of his chest under the glowing star of the arc reactor and feeling the mind-meltingly good pressure of his ass against his groin. How sweet it would be to be sure of his welcome, to know that if he pressed his lips to the soft skin under Tony’s ear Tony would smile and turn his head for a kiss.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes. He tried to use the meditative techniques his therapist taught him: inhale slowly, count to three, exhale slowly. Focus on anything except the throbbing ache that had settled at the base of his spine. Don’t think about the way Tony had closed his eyes and tilted his face up into the rain, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly, as Steve was canceling the mission. The way he had stood still as a statue in the mud and the rain and let everyone else hold on to him as they slipped and slid through the muck trying to get into the dry sanctuary of the cabin. The way his hands move when he talks, how sometimes his mouth can’t keep up with his thoughts and his sentences become incomprehensible to anyone but Bruce and sometimes Rhodey.

 _Dammit_. Not only did that not work, but now the ache had moved under his ribs, a wistful, tangled thing that sent tendrils up to close his throat and press against his eyes, something that probably had an untranslatable name in German or Russian. Bucky pressed a hand to his sternum as if he could push the longing back down where it belonged. Christ, it was so much easier to handle these unruly feelings when he wasn’t lying down.

That thought made him gingerly sit up, moving slowly and senses dialed up to pick up the slightest change in Tony’s breathing. He slid his legs carefully over the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands as he considered his options. He could sleep on the floor; wouldn’t be the first time, definitely wouldn’t be the last. It was chilly in the cabin, though, and Bucky had no idea where to find an extra blanket. He could hide in the bathroom and hope no one woke up in the middle of the night and found him lurking. Every square inch of the cabin was packed but he could maybe tiptoe to the kitchen table and spend the rest of the night staring at the tiny glowing rectangle of his phone.

He glanced over at the sleeping lump that was Tony, who was making soft, mumbling noises like he was talking in his dream. The truth was that, as hard as it was to lay here, as tortuous, it was the sweetest sort of torture and Bucky was loathe to give it up. Without thinking his hand reached out and hovered over the slight rise that was Tony’s hip, but at the last moment he curled his hand into a fist and pulled it back. He scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled as he gingerly laid back down.

“I said _no_ peanut butter,” Tony muttered, sounding adorably disgruntled. Bucky froze as Tony rolled over until he was facing him, the line between his eyebrows smoothing away as he fell back into a deeper sleep. With a soft exhale Bucky settled onto his stomach, arms wedged under the pillow as he turned his head to look at Tony.

Bucky studied Tony’s features until his eyes grew heavy from the drumming rain and the cozy warmth and weight of the blankets. He let himself fall into a dozy dream that they were here by design and not by accident, imagined waking up with long limbs entangled with his own, breaths mingling, lying in bed together for long, languid minutes, maybe falling in and out of sleep a few times before they finally get up in search of coffee and food. Or maybe they would have relaxed, lazy sex, with deep, drugging kisses, no urgency until the last moments before climax. And with that pleasant image in mind Bucky finally fell asleep.


End file.
